


Comfort ... and a Bit of Breathing

by MsSir



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 22:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSir/pseuds/MsSir
Summary: Five times Andy held Miranda's hand and one time she didn't.





	Comfort ... and a Bit of Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to SarahStreep7 & Je4nsly for creating the title.

## I

The first time Andy held Miranda's hand was an act of pure braveness--desperation and braveness. She had never seen Miranda quite so pissed before and she was actually worried about the woman's well-being. Miranda was seething with the type of anger that only comes from dealing with a dense, narcissistic bigot. It couldn't be good for Miranda's blood pressure and it most definitely wasn't good for Kelly's position at _Runway_. While Kelly deserved to lose her job; because had she _done_ it, she should have known to not put Miranda in the same room with that designer. Andy was sure there would be other casualties to this anger and it didn't sit right with her.

Usually, just being around Andy was enough to get Miranda to relax a bit, to embrace the calm. Of course, today Andy's superpower wasn't working. Andy needed to up the _near_ and _near²_ was _touch_. Andy took a deep breath and held it. As stupid as it was, knowing not a person in the Elias-Clark building would ever return the favor, Andy was going to touch Miranda Priestly, in her current state of beyond pissed. She stretched out her exhale over eight seconds, at the end of which she spoke.

In almost a whisper, "Miranda."

When Miranda turned to her, Andy almost flinched at the honest (and called for) indignation still present in those blue eyes. She thought maybe she shouldn't have said anything, but no. After all, she was about to invade Miranda's space and she deserved the right to object. 

Andy gave a weak smile and pulled Miranda's attention to her hand by glancing at it. When Andy looked up again her vision was crowded by Miranda's patented lifted eyebrow of (damn near) doom, but when Miranda didn't say anything, when she didn't move, Andy continued on with her plan. Miranda didn't react until after their hands had met and Andy weaved their fingers together, the surprise at Andy's actions swallowed all the rest of her thoughts about it. Andy considered Miranda's silence victory enough. Especially since Miranda enjoyed using her words to relieve people of their positions--as well as their sanity and self-esteem. 

When a few moments had passed and Andy hadn't let go Miranda's surprise morphed into something else. Something Andy didn't have a word for. Miranda just looked at her, hard, and Andy couldn't look away, nor could she decide if she wanted to. For about 30 seconds there was nothing but the blue of Miranda's eyes. Miranda ended the contact with a blink and shifted her body and attention toward the window.

They sat there, on opposites sides of the back seat, looking in opposite directions, ignoring each other and holding hands. The only thing to break the stillness of the ride was the movement of Andy's thumb, sporadically sliding over the skin of Miranda's wrist.

The ride back to _Runway_ , and every thing it entailed, was over all too quickly for Andy. The whole situation felt so monumental. Andy was surprised by the power she wielded; not only was she allowed to touch Miranda, but Andy’s presence, her touch relaxed the woman. Andy was able to get Miranda to a place of calm and to Andy, that was amazing. Andy was also a bit confused by how much she enjoyed holding Miranda's hand; the simple act had never been so enjoyable for her.

## II

The second time Andy held Miranda's hand was as much selfish as it was not. They had been sitting in the car for twenty minutes. The last eight were spent not moving and Miranda's lack of patience was beginning to show. Tonight, Dalton was putting on a first-of-its-kind-for-this-school musical. In the past, they used a recorded soundtrack, but tonight, the school's orchestra would be playing all of the music. Cassidy was the head pianist, Caroline was the head violinist, and Miranda was at least 15 minutes away from the school--the musical would be start in ten.

After the Miami Incident, Andy spent two hours on the phone with various power players at Dalton, talking them into setting up a streaming video of all performances. She pointed out how valuable that would be for the parents who wanted to attend but couldn't. It turned out to be time well spent, because two weeks later, she received an email with all of the details for their new streaming and recording services. There was an link for the live feeds and a price list for various shows and DVD formats. At the end of the email there was a paragraph thanking her for the idea. 

Andy was sure Miranda had received a similar email, and it was unlike Miranda to forget anything that involved her children, but the way she was vibrating in her seat said she had done just that. Trying not to offend, Andy waited for Miranda to say something about the performance being recorded or streamed. Instead, she had made a couple of comments that left Roy a little uncomfortable about his employment status.

Andy saved every email that even remotely involved Miranda or her children and it only took her a minute of searching to find what she was looking for. Andy had the email open, link ready, and she hesitated. Miranda was known as unpredictable for a reason, but with two minutes to curtain call, Andy decided it was now or never. She clicked the only link in the email. The site took about 30 seconds, that felt like 180, to fully load the website. The only thing left was hitting play. Andy took a deep breath, held it for six seconds, and released it over seven.

"Miranda." Andy spoke the name with the last bit of her exhale and it wasn't much louder than a breath. Not that it mattered much, Miranda would have heard it at any volume.

Andy was already plotting on holding Miranda's hand again (even if it wasn't all that necessary) and she was trying to hide her excitement--because really, why would she be excited about such a thing. Miranda, on the other hand, was expressing exactly what she felt: annoyance at having her annoyance interrupted. After two seconds past and Andy hadn't said anything else, Miranda's impatience intensified.

Andy moved the hand with the phone in it towards Miranda while moving the other towards Miranda's left hand. Andy thought Miranda has seen the movement of both hands, but her attention was on the phone and even the surprise of Andy's touch didn't distract her. Miranda's attention didn't move, even after Andy laced their fingers together and Andy's mind was slightly blown. Andy's desire to create intimacy with Miranda was one (confusingly enough) thing; but having her attempts quietly and completely accepted had her mind reeling.

When Miranda's patience finally wore off her eyes moved from the phone to Andy. Miranda gave a jerky, yet barely there nod towards the phone and the movement pulled Andy back to the present. Andy's mind still wasn't in a place to make words, she was to caught up in the feelings holding Miranda's hand elicited and the intensity of Miranda's eyes on her own. So instead of speaking, Andy moved the phone closer to where she thought Miranda's free hand was. A few moments later Andy watched something very similar to a smirk appear on Miranda's face before her phone was lifted from her fingers. Miranda immediately tapped play, making Andy wonder if maybe she did remember the email.

Andy wanted to slide over, move even farther into Miranda's space and share the tiny screen with her. But even from a distance Andy could tell the school brought all the best equipment. She'd never seen a live feed stream that clear or that fast. But even such high quality wasn't a match for the real thing and Andy figured Miranda was thinking the same thing.

Andy's heart beat picked up as she attempted to bypass any complaints. "I know it's not the same, but until we can get you there-"

Andy was cut off by Miranda squeezing her hand. Andy thought it was an expression of acknowledgement or gratitude and her heart started doing something else entirely.

## III

The third time Andy held Miranda's hand was almost exclusively an act of gratitude. They had just finished a business lunch with a designer and their agent. Andy was running behind this morning and skipping breakfast made the forty-five minutes drag on and on. And watching these people pretend to eat did not help. When it was over, she jumped up, ready to run, since Miranda was always the first person to leave these meeting, and she did so at her usual neck breaking speeds. The faster they got out of here, the faster Andy could eat, even if her lunch would leave much to be desired. However, Miranda lingered. When everyone else had left, Andy came as close as she ever had to asking Miranda a question; meaning she made eye contact with her and raised an eyebrow. Miranda just looked past her and nodded at someone. Before Andy could turn around and find who had Miranda's attention, the older woman spoke.

"I need to make a call. Wait here." And then she turned on her heel and left the restaurant at the expected speed.

Andy spent two seconds standing there looking like a guppy before her confusion was interrupted and added to. Their waiter was standing next to her and pulling at the chair she had occupied earlier. Then he placed a plate, chicken parmesan, potatoes, and mixed veggies, in front of it.

He smiled at her. "Sit, sit. It's all been taken care of." Then he walked away.

Andy sat down and tried to figure out when it could have been taken care off. The only thing Miranda had said to the waiter was her order--although, she had taken an extremely long time to sign her credit card receipt... But Andy was too hungry to question it any farther.

Andy kept an eye on her phone's clock and attempted to finish her meal in the fifteen minutes she usually had for lunch. She had gotten about three quarters of it completed when the waiter returned. He placed a small white box next to her arm and walked away. At that same moment she got a text from Miranda.

 _Ready_.

When she slid into the town car, she turned toward Miranda, "thank you" on the tip of her tongue. But Miranda was looking out the window, even her body was turned toward it. Which was weird because Miranda had taken to making eye contact with Andy every time she entered the car. Andy swallowed her words and just watched the older woman ignore her.

Of course, Miranda knew Andy was watching her and when she smirked Andy felt a new feeling mix with her thank you--a desire she wouldn't name, let alone sate. Instead, she would try to curb it and express her gratitude at the same time.

She took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, forced it out in three (she didn't know why there was a sense of urgency). At the end of it she spoke, low, but clear and with purpose, "Miranda..."

She was going to say thank you for lunch, but instead, body buzzing with anticipation, she reached across the back seat. And while Miranda had yet to look directly at Andy, she was doing anything but ignoring her, and her hand met Andy's halfway.

## IV

The fourth time Andy held Miranda's hand was because Andy wanted to tell Miranda she was breathtakingly beautiful and couldn't. Andy started this job watching Miranda's every move and facial expression looking for hints, validation, any information that would explain Miranda Priestly to her. Anything that would help her prove her worth as the woman's assistant. However, at some point, that study turned into appreciation, and now, it was morphing into something close to attraction, a desire. Andy couldn't figure out what was different about Miranda today; but everything about the woman was drawing Andy's eyes like a moth to a flame.

There was two hours left in Miranda's work day and this was the first time Andy accompanied her in the car. The moment she slid inside Miranda's eyes were on her. Andy nodded then turned her eyes to the window. The view held her attention for all of two minutes. She turned her head has little as possible and traced Miranda's neck with her eyes. When she reached Miranda's shoulder, her eyes backtracked and hugged the curve of Miranda's chin before sliding down again. There were creases in the skin and Andy wondered what it would taste like to slide her tongue into them when she felt Miranda's eyes on her. It took a second for her to connect the creases to Miranda's head movement. It took another three seconds for her to pull her eyes up and meet Miranda's. 

The almost unnoticeable raised right eyebrow, the small tilt of her head, and the gleam of challenge in Miranda's eye made it clear that she expected some sort of explanation for Andy's staring. Andy didn't have one. Or at least not one she was willing to put into words. She tried to play it off with a self-deprecating smile and small shrug, but Miranda's eyebrow only crept higher.

Andy took a deep breath and while she held it for five seconds she thought of all the things she wanted to say to Miranda. She couldn't help but notice how patient Miranda was being, but something in her eyes insured Andy looked nowhere else. Andy released her breath over six seconds and at the end of it she spoke.

"Miranda."

It was small, and honest, and held everything she couldn't say. She wasn't sure if she understood all she put into it and there was no way to know if Miranda had either. Instead of saying anything else, instead of trying to explain, Andy reached across the space between them and took Miranda's hand in her own. She took a moment to acknowledge her body's and mind's reaction to the connection and tried to not be afraid.

Miranda's whole presence changed. It was as if something ... settled. Her features became relaxed and as she turned to the window she laced their fingers together.

## One

Andy should have been at the luncheon, making sure everything was ready. Instead, she was sitting in the French version of a town car next to Miranda. She was going to try, yet again, to warn Miranda about Irv's plot to dethrone her, but when she met Miranda's eye she swallowed all thoughts of speaking. The tension rolling off the older woman's body was almost suffocating. It was an odd mixture of emotions considering who Miranda was. While anger, disappointment, and determination were common, nervousness and hesitation were not.

Andy's mind floated back to the first time she held Miranda's hand and she wished things were different. After last night's harsh dismissal and this morning look of absolute disgust, Andy figured the last thing Miranda wanted was Andy touching her. She was still itching to do it. So, even while she curled into herself, her right hand was palm down on the seat, ready to move.

Andy was at a complete loss. She couldn't figure out why Miranda wanted her in the car nor could she come up with a successful plan for removing some of the woman's stress. Miranda had made it very clear she needed to do nothing but her job and at this moment she was failing and it made her chest hurt. After a few minutes Miranda cut through Andy thoughts.

"Andrea."

There was a quality to her voice that was completely familiar to Andy--she heard Miranda's name echo in her head as she had said it the first time she held the woman's hand and her heart rate kicked things up a notch. Miranda didn't turn and face Andy, she didn't say anything else, and before Andy could question anything, Miranda reached out her hand and started sliding it across the back seat. Andy's heart was now in her throat.

Andy's hand slid into Miranda's and she choked back the feeling of home and glued her eyes to Miranda's face. Miranda didn't acknowledge Andy's stare, but the tension had started to ease and she kept hold of Andy's hand until David opened her car door. 

## V

The fifth time Andy held Miranda's hand was an expression of understanding. While she didn't agree with Miranda's decision, she understood it. Miranda did what she always did: nothing short of everything she thought was necessary to get the job done. But she was feeling uneasy with Miranda's tirade of explanation and justification. Because since when did Miranda do either.

Andy turned, adjusting her seat belt as she went, and looked at Miranda. Honestly looked at her. She tried to see the mother, in all her facets, crying, proud, excited, and stern. She looked for the wife and tried to imagine her happy, but could only see her as stuck, misplaced, longing for an escape. The businesswoman; powerful, impatient and ruthless. Confident beyond question or explanation. The editor; a master of words. The model; beautiful, envied, strong in ways most people would never know. The artist, the designer, the hopeful creator. The woman; who so easily allowed herself to be swallowed up by the expectations of others. The woman who hid behind the other facets of herself because it was safer, easier, than sharing who she really was.

Andy took a deep breath but didn't bother holding it or counting, and she spoke before her lungs were empty of air.

"Miranda."

It had the desired effect and stopped the stream of words. Miranda wasn't used to being interrupted, but she didn't seem upset, only confused and sort of expectant.

Andy just continued to look into her eyes. Searching the blue for what made the woman so defensive and adding it to what she already knew of her. Andy let all of her knowledge of Miranda flow over and through her. She made room for the things she didn't know but desperately wanted to discover and smiled. It was the smile, sincere, and out of place that caused Miranda's eyebrow to finally raise.

Andy's smile grew a bit more and she placed her hand, palm up, in the middle of the backseat and waited. She kept her eyes on Miranda's the whole time. It was like looking at a book written in another language and she wished Miranda would clue her in on what she thinking. She was so lost in blue, distracted by Miranda's eyes, that she didn't see Miranda's movement. And the pressure of Miranda's hand on top of her own surprised her.

Once their fingers where laced together Andy's smile grew wide and bright. Miranda rolled her eyes before turning her attention to the scenery outside. But once she was settled she squeezed Andy's hand in her own. 


End file.
